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No, I should thank you.

The choice of fabric actually bothered me for a long time. I couldn't find anything that I'm satisfied with.

But then I remembered some of the fabrics that my father used when he worked on his industrial outfits.

I never thought of using those in my outfit designs, but I took the chance to give it a try, and it worked surprisingly well.

This has been an eye-opening experience.

I see. That's good to hear.

I suppose designers normally don't use industrial materials for their work... though Rhodes Island is not the place for common sense.

Well, then, I still have a mission, so please excuse me now.

If there are any problems with your outfit, feel free to come to me any time.

Of course.

Why are you standing there like an idiot?

No reason... It's just that when I see the two of you... it feels like I haven't fully grasped that I am free.

Thank you very much, Orchid.

No need to thank me for your uniform. I did what anyone should've done.

No, that's only part of it. You made me realize a few of the problems I still have.

I really wish it was Catapult or Midnight saying this to me instead of you.

I beg your pardon?

Nothing, just talking to myself. I don't know what you've been through, nor do I know what you came to Rhodes Island for.

There this one thing that a certain frivolous host asked me before. Maybe I should ask you the same question.

Please.

He asked me, 'What kind of life do you want to lead at Rhodes Island?'

Feel free to come to me if you need anything clothing-related.

Or rather, don't come to me. I'm a very busy woman. Try Bibeak if you need anything.

Okay.

Well... Perhaps I should really give some thought about my life here again.

Drip. Drop.

Is it raining?

He looks out the window. Lightning flashes across the sky, but the glass remains dry.

Tick, tock.

It must be the clock, then.

But he looks up at the clock, and sees that its hands have long since stopped, with only a broken wooden dummy swaying beneath.

What is going on?

His palm feels wet, as though liquid was dripping through his clenched fist and onto the ground, forming a viscous puddle.

He opens up his hand and sees that the hairs of his palm are soaked in blood.

Sinner.

Who's there?!

Hehe. You're already wearing unbreakable shackles, Anthony.

Another flash of lightning illuminates the corner of the dark room. A severed head lies on the ground, blood still gushing out from where it was separated from its body, leaving it lying in a pool of blood. It is the head that is speaking to him.

He remembers that face. It is a familiar one.

Val Hyde... where is your brother?

Where is he? Right by your feet.

He looks down to see a corpse lying on the ground. Its torso is turned away, yet its head has swiveled around to face him. The broken neck vertebrae protrude from the skin.

Why are you trembling, Anthony? You should be happy.

You've waited so long for this day. To kill your hated enemies with your own hands, and let their blood soak every inch of earth here.

Did... did I do all this?

Yes. Smile, Anthony. What a day. What a lovely day.

You've exacted your revenge, so why the long face? Hehehe.

No... it's too late.

Oh, my child, you came too late. Boo-hoo. Your mom and I didn't live to see the day you walked free again.

It's all too late. Our little Tony. Boo-hoo.

Shut up. Shut up!

Murderer! How dare you pretend to talk like my parents!

Murderer? Is he taking about us?

Yes, brother. He's talking about us.

But look around, Anthony. There's only one person in this room with blood on their hands.

It's you. You're the murderer.

You deserved it! You deserved to die by my hands!

Such brave words, such unwavering resolve. Everything is as you wanted, then. Why not smile, Anthony?

Why are your lips pursed like that? Come on, turn that frown upside down. Smile. Laugh. Do as I do.

Enough! Shut up!

Such terrifying eyes, brother. There's murder in them.

The eyes of a murderer! The eyes of a sinner!

Shut! Up!

Hahaha! We're waiting for you, Anthony. We'll see you in the flames of hell.

Is that so?

I'm already being burnt every day by the flames of revenge.

What do I care about the flames of hell, as long as I can tear you apart with my own two hands?

What does a charred corpse have to fear from the fire?

Then come find us, Anthony. Hahahaha.

I will. I'll step into the flames.

A fire burns in his eyes.

Argh—!

Argh...

It's that dream again... my head...

(Covers face) What time is it...?

Good morning, operator. It is currently 04:24. Current weather is overcast, and the temperature is 26 degrees.

Four in the morning... only three hours of sleep, then.

...Forget it, I can't get back to sleep.

My sheets are soaked with sweat.

I'll need to change them... the pillow, too.

You have a new message, operator.

Anthony, we found the money your dad left in Bunkerhill City. There's more than enough for us to make a comeback.

Are you still haunted by what happened to your parents?

It's not your fault. HydeBro carried out their entire plan while you were in Mansfield. By the time we heard the news, it was already too late.

The Hyde brothers are nothing if not thorough. It's a miracle that you're still alive.

We went to great lengths to get in touch with you. Their eyes and ears are everywhere.

Try to pull yourself together. We'll take back what belongs to us.

Control, Anthony... don't let violence overcome you... control...

(Trembles)

...Damn it.

Damn it!

He picks up a chair and throws it at the wall, shattering the dressing mirror mounted there.

He sees his face reflected in the shards, twisted in anger.

Then, the fury fades.

Control, Anthony.

Anger and sorrow have never solved anything.

Training Room

(Gazes into distance)

(Hm, he looks distracted...)

Snap out of it, big guy!